Always
by TheSoggyBug
Summary: Post MJ oneshot. The day Peeta and Katniss reunited  or something like that . Bloody brilliant, so read and review.


_I do so hope you all will enjoy this one-shot. I haven't written one like it so far, so…. SPOILER ALERT (duh)! It takes place after Mockingjay, without changing anything from the previous books (like Prim dying or anything like that), and it is just one "chapter", only written because…well, I've only ever read MJ twice. The first time I cried and was depressed for about w solid week afterwards, stuck it on my shelf, and never opened it again until maybe March of this year—not even peeking. In March, I read it a second time and decided that the ending sucked. No one can disagree. So, to make myself feel better, I wrote THIS fabulous thing. So, yes, it is a bit old, but the feeling should still be there. _

**oOo**

I didn't bother going to the door when someone knocked from the outside. Greasy Sae went to answer it, as she usually did. Sae had become a kind of…caretaker over the past six months after returning to District 12. I had been dragged into a sort of half-dead state, occasionally staying for days in the same spot; sometimes on the couch or in front of the fireplace, in bed or locked in the closet. Currently, I was sitting in front of the couch, my fingers turning a slip of paper over and over in my hand. It was a letter, addressed to me. From him.

It remained unopened.

"I'm coming, I'm coming…" Sae called, ten feet from the door. Wiping her soapy-from-dishes hands on the front of her shirt, she turned the doorknob.

A deep voice answered indistinctively, followed by a pause.

"…She's by the couch." Greasy Sae said quietly.

I hadn't bothered turning around to see who it was. Because in just barely fifteen seconds, said person appeared by my side. The stench of his alcohol breath told me without seeing.

"You're getting a visitor soon, sweetheart." Haymitch said. It was obvious he was just getting over a hangover and didn't want to be here at all. His stench made me want to retch. "An hour. 'Called ahead of time. You might want to…" He straightened up, mumbling, and then coughed, lumbering back away from me. "Thought you might want to know."

He and Greasy Sae walked back to the front door, and the rest of their short conversation I didn't hear. Except the last sentence.

"…Take care of her." Haymitch grunted, and then he left.

An hour. A visitor. Peeta?"

My throat closed up tightly and I hugged my knees to my chest. I haven't seen him in over half a year. Was he okay? Was he back to normal? Will he try to hurt me? I touched the place on my neck where he had caused throbbing black bruises. Was that the Peeta coming back for me?

It didn't matter anymore anyways. Things would never turn out right.

"C'mon, Katniss." Greasy Sae came up beside me and touched my shoulder (I flinched). "You should get yourself some trousers on and something in your stomach."

I hadn't moved from this spot in two days and four-and-a-half hours. The thick letter in my hand had arrived the beginning of last month. In a trance I'd been staring at it, feeling the indentions of where his pen pressed too hard when writing me name. Mostly I'd just been holding it, laying around in just my underwear and an oversized T-shirt, not caring about anything. Hygiene, food, comfort. Prim's gone, Mother's gone, Gale's gone, everyone's gone. They left me…

"C'mon, Katniss," Sae repeated."

I shook my head, curling into a tighter ball, crumpling the letter against my chest.

She sighed heavily and went back into the kitchen. I could hear her banging around in there, making food. It never mattered what kind; it all tasted the same to me, when I actually did eat.

Lungs trembling, I took the letter and smoothed it out against my knees.

"You might as well read that, love." Sae came in, holding a tray with a bowl full of porridge, a glass of water, and the little plastic cup of my pills. They were supposed to help me. My nightmares, insomnia, lack of appetite, depression. But the nightmares were so gruesome and vivid; I never slept at all anymore. The last full night's worth of sleep I got was…four months ago, I think.

I took my pills, ignoring Sae. The letter was still weighing on my mind, though. To open it or to not open it? In an hour I'd get to see him in person. He could say whatever he had to say to my face. But that exact same reason can couch for the other side as well…

Greasy Sae, who was scowling down at me, put her hands on her hips. "Eat, Katniss. I've promised a number of people I'd tack care of you. Don't make me a liar."

As always, I gave in when she got that way. She didn't often, but…

Rubbing my eyes, I gingerly spooned porridge into my mouth and swallowed. Tasted like sand, of course, but I kept on. About halfway through, it all came back up. Thankfully, I made it to the kitchen sink before my stomach heaved and I was empty once again.

Sae didn't say anything as I stood over the sink and wept. Why do things have to be this way? Why me? It's my fault Prim's dead, and everyone else just abandoned me. I have no one; just…lost the will to live.

My legs gave way and I crumpled onto the kitchen floor, cradling my head in my hands. Memories swam through my head, making the foul taste of bile appear on my tongue.

"We should get you back into the living room," Sae burst into my violent visions with her usual gruff, but quiet voice.

I ignored her again, just kept on crying into my hands. Ignoring things didn't always work, though, because she just scooped me up in her arms and dumped me onto the couch, tucking a comforter up to my chin.

"Things'll be fine, love."

I cracked. Leaping up from the couch and balling my fists, I snarled, "How come everyone's always telling me that? Things have never been okay, and never will be again! What is there in life to live for when everyone's left you? There's nothing, okay? So just…" My throat felt sore from screaming, and my eyes had blurred even before I'd started. Letting out a wounded moan, I sank back under my blanket. "Leave me alone."

Silence answered me, opening the shredded gap of my heart further. Part of me wanted to Sae to yell at me back, but no such thing happened. She'd left the room.

The letter I was still clutching burned like hot coals in my hand. Maybe…

I sat up, pushing the covers away, once again turning over the crumpled slip. The word was still on there, written in neat print. My name. Swallowing whatever fear and wetness I had accumulated, my numb fingers slid under the flap and peeled it open. A folded piece of paper fell out, and I blinked away my tears to read the lines of handwriting on it.

Katniss,

I remember. Not everything, but enough. When I remember everything I'll come back. The doctor doesn't know I'm writing this because he says no contact with you right now is best, but I needed you to know that I haven't forgotten. Don't be angry at me. I don't want to hurt you anymore.

Peeta

"Anymore" he wrote. What does that mean? What does any of this mean?

Overcome with a fit of rage and desertion, I crumpled up the letter and threw it into the crackling fire. And, without even watching it burn, I turned and ran upstairs to my room. Kicking the door closed behind me, I curled up on the blankets and cried as hard as I could, clenching and unclenching my nail-bitten fingers on the pillow.

A knock on the door.

I immediately silenced my sobs, hoping against hope Sae would get the message and leave.

There was a seconds' pause and she knocked again. The third knock, the door opened.

"Go away, Sae. I don't feel like talking to anyone." I cried, throwing my pillow her direction, gritting my teeth with anger. But through the blur of my tears and the aching of my chest, when I looked at the person, it was clear that person wasn't my middle-aged caretaker.

My throat closed and my heart fluttered past a couple beats as I stared at Peeta, who was standing in the doorway.

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. We just stayed still and gawked at one another, but I was pretty sure I was the only one with tears.

Peeta cleared his throat with a blank expression. "May I come in?"

I sat there for another second, breaths coming in and out shakily. Finally, I lowered my chin in a sort of half-nod.

He slowly walked inside, keeping a cautious eye on me, and sat down on a chair near my bed. "I saw you got my letter. Downstairs."

I frowned.

"It fell out of the fireplace."

Heat crossed my cheeks and I dropped our gaze, feeling the ache of my teeth as I began grinding them together again.

Another awkward pause.

"How have you been?" Peeta's face betrayed no emotion other than reluctance and curiosity.

"Fine." The fact that I was twenty pounds lighter, a sickly green color, trouserless, and hunched over with the weight of the world, told everyone different.

He raised his eyebrows slightly. "Greasy Sae says you haven't been eating."

I didn't say anything.

It was obvious I wasn't helping any, judging by the look on Peeta's face. He seemed awkward and exasperated with me

"You said you'd come back when you remembered everything." I said quietly, attempting to blink away tears threatening to appear. "Do you?"

Peeta ran a hand through his hair. "I…remember most."

"What?"

He looked away from me. "…..Only what my eyes told me."

"Meaning…?" I wasn't sure about how to feel about having him here, but I knew that he meant no harm.

"I can remember the Games." Peeta said. "And the Victory Tour. And the Quell. But I don't know what either of us…felt, what our motives were. Before the Games, I loved you. Real or not real?"

So we were going to play this game. Okay.

I swallowed. "Real, I think, but it was diluted."

"How so?"

"…We were just kids. You didn't base what you felt for me on the 'me' you actually knew. You never met me, so I don't know if you would actually call it 'love'."

Peeta pondered about that for a while, leaning back in his chair.

…But you didn't love me. And in the Games, I went with the Careers, you went alone. And yet, neither of us seemed on each other's sides, even though I loved you and we both knew it."

My stomach twitched with the memory. "We knew we were both going to die. Our goals were to survive. That was easiest for you when you were teamed up with the Careers."

"And yet, when you dropped the tracker jacker nest, you were aiming to kill me."

"You would have gotten to me first. And you didn't die." I lifted my chin up defensively, not liking the look in his eyes.

"Okay." Peeta's expression softened as he took yet another pause. "When we finally teamed up, you pretended to love me, but you didn't. What did you feel?"

A little lump formed in the base of my throat. Normally it was just the straightforward "do you love me (or him)?" Licking my lips nervously, I glanced up at him nervously. "I-I think I loved you in my own way, but it wasn't what you or the cameras wants."

And to my surprise, a tiny, sad smile appeared on Peeta's lips. "I remember the Victory Tour. When the cameras weren't on us… Well, I guess what you said just then was the only explanation to it."

Immediately, my face grew hot and I looked away. To be honest, I missed those nights. They might have been the most real we've ever been.

Peeta wasn't finished, though. "And in the Quell, that was pretending too, right? Real or not real?"

I was starting to quiver, breaths coming out a little less even. "P-Peeta, I-I don't…I can't…"

"Real or not real?" His eyes were boring into mine almost painfully, demanding an answer. "Real or not real?"

"Not real, not real."I cried, once again clutching my head in my hands. "I wasn't pretending."

Silence.

Peeta was breathing quietly, wringing his hands and furrowing his brows. "You weren't pretending… Neither was I, I don't think. But I wish…I wish I could remember how I felt." He put his palm on his forehead. "With you. I want to remember how I felt every time we were together."

Sighing, I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling empty and small. "So do I, Peeta." And that was the truth.

From my peripheral vision, I saw him stand from his chair and take a slow step to my bed, worriedly and unsure. I didn't even bother moving from my hunched, defeated position.

"Is it okay if I sit?"

I nodded wordlessly.

Peeta did so, gently tucking his legs underneath himself as he settled next to me on the bed. I could feel nervousness and tension seeping out of his pours like waves.

"I-I'm sorry in advance if I do anything wrong," He whispered, raising a trembling hand.

Those words made me turn to look at him, eyes wide. All wary suspicions crumbled when I saw the caring, insecure pucker of Peeta's brows as he raised a hand.

For a split-second, I let my mind bring me back, back to what he felt like. I wanted him to touch my cheek again, to reassure me what I once had wasn't lost.

Suddenly, Peeta bit his lip and brought his hand back down. "…You're crying."

He was right. When I touched under my eyes, my fingertips came back wet, though I hadn't realized it. Silently cursing myself, I hugged my arms to my chest again. "I want things to be better again, Peeta. But…they never will be."

"Why do you say that?"

"…Because there's no one in my life to take care of. I have no more purpose." I rubbed my eyes with the balls of my hand and inhaled shakily. "They've all left. I've been abandoned."

Upon my words, Peeta's face morphed into one of defiance and protectiveness. "Not by me, you haven't. I'm not giving up on myself yet. Or you, or anybody."

For a moment, I could see my old Peeta through the mask made of pieces from his rearranged heart, through the tension and unease. I saw the fever-ridden boy who lay dying in the cave with me during the Games, but hadn't failed to make sure I didn't risk my life for him. That didn't work, but…"

Everything that had been bottled (mostly) up inside me came rushing out. Everything. Prim's death, Finnick's death, Gale's mutiny, and just my entire life getting chipped up, fried, and left for the crows. Rivers of emotion poured from my eyes. It's not fair, it's just not fair.

Why me? Why Prim? Why did Peeta have to get hijacked?

My entire body trembled like a leaf as I cried helpless, bitter tears. I was so wound up in self-pity and confusion and angst, I barely even noticed the uncomfortable arm wrap around my shoulders. Through stinging tears, I saw Peeta looking at me in a concerned, yet tentative, manner. Even though it was mildly comforting, actually having someone there, his touch was tense—almost unfamiliar. I didn't want it to be unfamiliar.

Letting out a heartbroken whimper, I tossed aside his alien feelings and pressed myself against him, wanting more than anything to feel the warmth that had long since left me.

Peeta's reaction was more or less what I expected. His entire body went rigid as he flinched away, and his head hammered a few times in surprise before calming down. I waited out his shock, my face buried in his chest, not caring about the state of things. A second passed, and a second more before Peeta finally stopped resisting and put his own arms around me in sort of an awkward alliance.

"I wish they hadn't taken you from me…" I whispered, throat sore and words continuing to shake with every quiet sob that raked my body.

He hadn't heard me. "What?"

Still trembling, I lifted my tear-stained face off of his chest. "I said, 'I wish they hadn't taken you away from me'..."

Peeta looked as though he didn't know what to say. Hid eyebrows furrowed sympathetically and he drew his hands away from me, not unkindly. "I wish, too. It seems like we might have had something." Those words were spoken almost bitterly.

Feeling a bit embarrassed at my outburst, I wiped my eyes. "You were…you were mine. But I guess what we both lost isn't going to be recovered any time soon."

There was a long period of silence.

I felt completely drained. My limbs didn't work, my insides heaved, my head ached and spun, and I was just overall exhausted for not sleeping at all lately.

"…You look awful, Katniss." Peeta decided, beginning to stand up.

"Don't you dare leave." I said that harsher than intended. I looked away and swallowed guiltily. "Please."

His eyebrows knit above his sorry blue eyes and he sat slowly back down. I could see his reluctance as he carefully tucked the covers round my waist. Gears flit inside of his head, that much was obvious, and the muscle in his cheek began twitching. I started to cry again.

"Don't cry," Peeta said, but it was less comforting and more of an order. Scooting until his back was against the headboard, he waited until my watery eyes had closed before touching me gently on the cheek. It was sweet and hesitant, and he didn't take it away before wiping a stray tear from the side of my face.

I missed him, I missed him. Memories too painful to bear flooded my heart and throat again. Just flickers. Rue's soft black skin trembling with cold. Prim weeping over her little goat, Lady. The color of Finnick's eyes. Peeta. Just Peeta. His smile, his laugh, his imperfections and unwillingness to give up.

I tried to control the sudden breaths that heaved in and out of my lungs, shooting up my lungs violently. When another tremor shook my body, I reached out involuntarily and clutched Peeta's hand, pressing it against my eyes. Please make them go away, Peeta. Rue, Boggs, Prim, Father, Mags, everyone. Make them go…

Suddenly, the hand that I was clenching was gone, and Peeta had left. Breathing in frightened gasps now, I sat up. "Peeta? Peeta!"

"Shh," He reappeared again, but behind me, reassuringly pressing my small, fearful body against his chest. A cup found my lips. "Drink."

I obeyed, but only because concentrating on getting the water down my throat stopped my horrible sobs. When the glass was empty, Peeta put it away and once again tucked me under the covers. And the sleep that found me afterwards came crashing down into my skull like a bomb.

My dream was a nightmare. Blood like a bib caked Prim's dress, staining her neck and chest scarlet. It changed to a Finnick-mutt, sea-green eyes that were once beautiful gleamed wickedly, with the stench of death wetting his muzzle. Letting out a howl like a human cry, he left at me, sending my head cracking backwards with a scream.

Someone help! I wanted to yell, but no sound came out. The first person I thought of to help was Peeta. Automatically. As pain ripped apart my body, I screamed. Everything seemed to explode and I replayed all the pain I felt in my life, all the times when I've wanted nothing more than to just die.

Imagine for me the person you love most in your mind. A dimpled little brother or crease-ridden elderly grandfather. Their blood runs upon your hands, slick and warm, filling the air with an unpleasant iron taste. Your heart splits into two, knowing you'll never see that person again. You'll never hear their laugh or feel their baby-fine hair on your lips. You'll never get to comfort their crying or close their eyes against the fright. All that's left of your love is the fresh crimson blood staining your skin and all you could do is wail for all the memories you'll never make.

It was screaming that woke me in the morning. Ripping from my lungs like fire, I felt my sweat-sticky back arch wildly. My ears felt like they were going to burst, but I couldn't stop. Hopeless feelings and visions stabbed me endlessly, like spears, one-by-one, just making the screams be yanked louder from my mouth.

I felt the tender flesh in my throat tear, causing a mouthful of blood be coughed up. Salt flooded around my tongue and in my nose. Still crying with the pain in my throat and heart, I turned to scramble at the bed next to me.

Peeta wasn't there. My thoughts rushed in and I caterwauled again, yelling for the only person who could comfort me. His name dissolved into sobs of pain.

When I tried getting up, my hand flung out as vertigo hit, and it sent something crashing to the floor. Glass, everywhere.

But I could stay up. My legs buckled under me and I crumpled onto the ground with the chunks of porcelain lamp. I didn't care. In fact, as I wailed, my nails dug into the carpet, clenching a couple of shards as well. The nerves in my hands screamed as I did, blood already soaking my arms.

Somewhere deep in my skull I heard a pounding on the door, seemingly matching the pounding in my head.

"Go away!" I shrieked, doubling over as spots dotted my vision because more blood came up. My body was shaking so much, I could barely even lit my head. When vice-like arms gripped me from behind—pinning my elbows to my side—I began yelling some more, feeling defenseless and frightened.

"Katniss, stop."

A stern voice broke the layer of panic in my mind, startling me into obeying. I felt my limp body be pulled into an upright position, and through the blurring tears, I could see I was being pushed into the bathroom.

By the time we got in, I was able to stand up myself. In the mirror, I saw her: a stick-thin girl with greasy black hair growing straggly past her waist, terrifying gray eyes, spatters of blood dripping from her lips and down her fingers.

Turns out, it had been Peeta whose arms gripped me tight, and now he had turned the sink tap on and was holding my hands under the stream of water. Copious amounts of dark red liquid ran freely from the gashes in my hands.

Angry eyebrows were making deep creases above Peeta's stormy blue eyes. And when I latched onto his gaze—though he didn't look at me back—I couldn't look away. I let him wash the blood off my hands and bandage them up with stinging gauzy stuff.

When a steaming damp cloth was brought up to clean the blood from my chin and mouth, our eyes finally me. Peeta's hand froze, trembling an inch away from my face. I felt my heart quiver and skip a beat. But after only hesitating for a second, he continued cleaning off my face with a new odd expression.

After all that was done, we were just standing there in the bathroom, lacking a sense of finality between us to get out. My throat throbbed and stung from screaming, but I kept my mouth shut and just stared at Peeta warily as he crossed his arms in thought.

He looked upset, to my unease. Solemn eyes unblinking, mouth in a hard line. It made me uncomfortable, and I still hadn't gotten over the scene in my nightmare… A lot of needles and screaming.

Grimacing, I shifted my weight between feet. "Why are you angry?"

"…Because you hurt yourself." Peeta's expression softened greatly as he picked up one of my bandaged hands. I let him, feeling my chest constrict. His touch was gentle, more gentle than I'd felt form him in ages. My hand trembled in his.

For a moment, he caught my gaze. For the second time since he came, he let show a glimmer of the old him, soft and sweet and affectionate. He looked down through his buttery eyelashes at my hand again, and what happened next could have passed as unintentional.

The nerves from my sleepless night plus seeing through to Peeta's vulnerable side made me not think very straight. Thus leading to the uncontrollable urge to lean forwards and kiss him.

Peeta's entire body went completely rigid against mine in surprise. A gasp tripped out of his mouth and he broke away. I saw a panicked look in his eyes, but then I had to let out a choked sob, because I knew what was happening.

Peeta's hand was gripping the towel rack behind him violently, making his knuckles turn white. A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead, and his eyes closed so tight I thought they may never open.

As I stood there, feeling another sob build in my throat, my gaze was locked on Peeta as he began restraining the visions behind his lids. I know his mind was fighting with him, the dangerous tracker jacker venom threatening to crop up again. What was there to do? I did what I wanted to—to comfort him.

Dr. Aurelis told me not to make any contact when Peeta was like this. Not to talk to him or touch him or anything. Before, I'd obeyed. Now I just needed him to snap out of it.

"Peeta," I put my hand on his cheek.

Letting out a gurgled cry, he yanked his head away and a convulsion shook up his spine.

I put my hands back, aware of exactly how dangerous that was. "Peeta, Peeta," I kept hold of his pale face until he stopped trembling.

Though Peeta's hand remained gripped on the towel rack, he was able to take a deep breath, and another one. He was completely frozen, all except for the controlled, slow breathing.

I'd wanted to touch him like this since he left. To let my fingers curve along his cheekbones and his jaw, to comfort him as he did me. We were both going through things. I'd lost my family, he'd lost himself. Together, we were mending.

A warm tear slid out of Peeta's closed eye and dropped onto my finger. And, making one inhale sharply, he brought his hand up to cover mine.

"I remember, Katniss. I remember." He opened his azure eyes to stare at me.

My heart skipped a beat, a dozen beats, I didn't know. It pulled and tugged towards him, almost an unfamiliar action since I hadn't really felt him love me in months. I knew this wouldn't permanently fix things, but maybe it could today. I could try. And it was that decision that made me brush away Peeta's tears and kiss him again.

He didn't pull away this time. Though his lips were somewhat stiff and unsure (like the rest of his body), he let his hand touch my face. That was gentle. I realized he was still holding onto the towel rack when it snapped off in his hand when we kissed.

I could have stayed that way forever, letting him numb my mind away from the bad thoughts. It was selfish, but he was like a drug to me. He made everything go away, all the pain, the visions. I wanted to feel him again.

Peeta broke away and laughed, the most beautiful thing in the world. He was crying again, little diamond tears slipping down his face in a race with gravity. "I remember…"

Tears were crawling down my face as well. "…Me too." And there was nothing to do besides bury my face in his chest and embrace him, towel rack and all. I remember, Peeta, and I love you.

I could never forget.

**oOo**

_Ahh, so touching. Sniff. _

_Anyways, review if you liked it. Review if you didn't. Let me know. Love you all!_


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